A Pastoral Letter to the Faithful Reflecting on Matthew 8:26
By Russ Hjelm
Beloved brothers and sisters,
There are moments when life feels like open water under a darkened sky. Winds rise unexpectedly, waves crash with force, and what once felt steady begins to shake. Fear can grow quickly in such moments, not only because of what surrounds us, but because of what seems absent. The heart asks where safety is found, where God is when the storm feels louder than faith. Into this human experience speaks the quiet yet powerful word of Jesus in Matthew 8:26: “Why are you afraid, O you of little faith?” Then He rose, rebuked the winds and the sea, and there was a great calm. This word is not spoken with harshness but with invitation. It is a call to trust that reaches beyond circumstance and into the deepest place of the soul.
The scene reveals something profound about the nature of discipleship. The disciples were not far from Jesus; they were in the same boat with Him. Their fear did not come from being distant from God but from not yet understanding who was present with them. Faith is not primarily the absence of storms, nor is it the denial of danger. Faith is the recognition that the One who holds authority over all creation is near, even when the waves seem to contradict His care. The question Jesus asks exposes not their weakness alone, but their perception. Fear often grows when we measure reality only by what we can see, hear, or control. Faith grows when we remember who speaks into that reality.
The rebuke of the wind and the sea reminds us that creation itself listens to its Maker. The chaos that terrifies human hearts is not beyond His command. This does not mean that every storm ends immediately or that every hardship disappears when we pray. Scripture does not offer a promise of a life free from turmoil. Instead, it offers something deeper: the assurance that Christ is sovereign in the midst of it. The calm that follows His word points not only to external peace but to the inner stillness that comes when trust replaces panic. The heart that knows Christ learns to rest even before the waves settle.
There is also a gentle correction in the Lord’s question. He does not shame His followers for feeling fear; He invites them to grow beyond being ruled by it. Fear is a natural human response, but it becomes spiritually dangerous when it defines our choices and shapes our vision more than the presence of God does. Little faith is not no faith. It is faith that is still learning, still maturing, still discovering the depth of God’s faithfulness. The Lord speaks to such faith tenderly, calling it forward rather than casting it away. Every believer, no matter how long they have walked with God, knows seasons where faith feels small. Yet even small faith is addressed by a patient Savior who teaches through both storms and calm.
In the modern world, storms come in many forms. Some are visible: economic uncertainty, illness, fractured relationships, social unrest, or the weight of responsibilities that feel impossible to carry. Others are internal: anxiety that lingers in the quiet hours, grief that returns without warning, or questions that do not have quick answers. The temptation is to assume that spiritual maturity means never feeling overwhelmed. But the gospel reveals a different path. Spiritual maturity is not emotional numbness; it is learning to turn toward Christ again and again when fear rises. The disciples cried out to Him, and even their imperfect cry became the doorway to witnessing His power.
This passage also teaches the community of believers how to walk together. The disciples were in the same boat, sharing the same storm. Faith is never meant to be lived in isolation. When one person trembles, another can remind them of God’s faithfulness. When one feels exhausted, another can carry hope for a time. The church is called to be a place where fear is met not with judgment but with encouragement, where honesty about struggle is welcomed, and where the words of Christ are spoken gently into weary hearts. The calm Jesus brings often arrives through the prayers, presence, and patience of His people.
Practically, this means cultivating habits that anchor the heart before the storm intensifies. Prayer becomes not merely an emergency response but a continual conversation with God. Scripture becomes not only information but nourishment, shaping how we interpret reality. Worship reorients the soul away from the size of the waves and toward the greatness of God. Silence and rest create space to remember that the world does not rest on human shoulders. These practices do not eliminate hardship, but they prepare the heart to recognize Christ’s presence when fear threatens to take control.
It is also important to notice that Jesus was at rest in the boat before the calm came. His peace did not depend on circumstances. The invitation to believers is to grow into that same posture, a trust that rests in the Father’s care even when outcomes remain uncertain. Such peace is not passive resignation; it is active confidence that God’s purposes are unfolding beyond what can be seen. It allows believers to act wisely, love generously, and endure patiently without being consumed by panic.
The great calm that follows Jesus’ command serves as a foretaste of the ultimate peace God promises. Every moment of calm in this life points forward to the day when all chaos will be fully stilled, when fear will have no place, and when the presence of God will be known without interruption. Until that day, believers live between storm and stillness, learning to trust the One who holds both. The Christian life is not a journey from storm to stormlessness, but from fear toward deeper trust.
Therefore, when the winds rise, remember that the question of Jesus is still spoken with love: Why are you afraid? It is not an accusation but an invitation to look again at who is in the boat. He is not distant. He is not indifferent. He is the Lord who speaks peace into chaos and who forms faith through every trial. Bring your fears honestly before Him. Let them become prayers rather than prisons. Encourage one another to look toward Him when vision grows dim. And when calm comes, whether outwardly or inwardly, receive it as grace and give thanks.
May hearts grow steady not because life is predictable, but because Christ is faithful. May fear lose its power as trust takes root more deeply. And may the people of God learn, again and again, that the One who commands the sea also cares tenderly for every soul that calls upon Him.
Grace and peace to you all.
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